“It’s my job to make sure you know the correct information.”
“I know,” she groans. “Christ, Keller. I think the moss on the walls knows the intricacies of your job at this point.” She steps into the tub, picks up the nozzle of the shower, and starts rinsing her body. My eyes fixate on the way the water pebbles off her breasts.
It only takes seconds for me to grow hard.
“Is that what the rest of our time here is going to be like?” she asks as she sets the nozzle down and lathers some soap that she caresses over her body, her hands working around her breasts, over her stomach, and between her legs.
Fuck...
“Keller, I’m talking to you.”
“Huh?” I ask, looking up at her irritated face.
“Oh, so you can stand there and watch me shower, but when I want a kiss, you won’t give it up?”
I grip the back of my neck. “I’m trying to keep a professional distance.”
“Oh yeah, you’re really professional right now. More like a peeping Tom.”
“You’re right, sorry,” I answer before I turn toward my bedroom and slip into the dark space, my curtains not yet pulled back.
What am I doing?
Last night, I lost control. I tasted her, and for the entire jog, I was asking dumb questions because my mind couldn’t think of anything else as I watched her boobs bounce up and down next to me. All I could think about was how I’d had them in my mouth the night before. How they’d tasted, how she’d sounded when I sucked on them.
Or how it felt sliding along her clit.
Or her moans.
Or how her mouth tasted.
Fuck, I knew this was going to happen. One taste was all it took.
And then when I was saying good night, the slight sigh of relief when I kissed her one last time... I felt it all the way to the marrow of my bones.
So, what am I going to do now?
I clearly can’t concentrate properly, not the way that I need to.
But I know if I take another taste, that will be the end of me, there will be no turning back.
Fuck.
I grip my hair, pacing my room as I try to decide.
And then, when I look up, she’s standing in my doorway, a towel wrapped around her torso, looking so fuckable it’s painful.
“What are your training plans for today? I need to decide if I should wear a dress to practice formal dinner wear, or something more comfortable.” There’s so much snark coming out of her mouth right now, it makes me want to silence it with my dick.
“Crisis management,” I say.
“Oh, fun. That shouldn’t be boring at all.” She turns on her heel and heads into her bedroom.
“Wear something comfortable,” I call after her.
She peeks into the doorway. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?”
Jesus Christ. The fucking mood on her.
